Daughter of the Devil
by coonskin
Summary: Some missing scenes from the S1 episode Daughter of the Devil. All are Becky's POV.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I enjoyed the S1 episode Daughter of the Devil, but there are a few scenes that I wished had been included in it. This will be a two-shot, a couple of missing scenes here, a couple more forthcoming. I'm not changing the episode, just filling in what I saw as blanks, and I'll admit loving Daniel and Becky scenes, so the more of them in an episode, the merrier.

DBDBDBDB

Becky was working around the cabin, waiting for him. Israel had already gone to bed, and Jemima was heading that way a little reluctantly. Their daughter was growing up, Becky thought, looking at her fondly. No longer the little girl, though not quite a woman yet.

She was enough older now to read her mother's mood many times even when Becky was trying to hide it. "Pa probably just got held up at the stockade talking to somebody after he did his turn at guard," she said.

Becky smiled. "I'm sure he did. Good night, Mima." Dan wasn't really that late, she kept telling herself. She just had one of those annoyingly undefined feelings about tonight for some reason.

"Night, Ma." Jemima reached for the ladder and took the first step.

Both of them heard it, a very odd-sounding shriek, animal but not quite like animals they were used to hearing, and almost simultaneously, a heavy thump from very close outside the cabin. Jemima froze on the ladder, looking to her mother, and the little girl in her expression surged back to the front momentarily, wanting reassurance that it was all right.

"Probably some animal," Becky said, but she still hurried to the door and opened it to peer out just in case her husband was here. "Dan?"

Lamplight spilled through the opening out into the clearing, and she saw him on the ground, just in the process of rolling back up onto his knees and starting to pick himself up. "Dan!" She rushed out, leaving the door wide open behind her. Reaching her husband, she finished helping him up. "What happened?"

"Get back inside," he said shortly.

The left sleeve of his jacket was dark and wet, soaking through more right in front of her eyes as she reached for it. "Your arm - you're hurt!"

He seized her with his good hand harder than he usually did and shoved her back toward the cabin. "I said get back inside!" he ordered.

She went then, though she didn't shut the door and turned back just inside to watch him, ready to grab her gun if needed. He picked up his rifle from the ground, looked around the clearing, and then retreated to the cabin himself. Once inside, he closed the door and securely locked it.

Becky reached urgently for his left arm again. He was bleeding badly. "What - here, get this jacket off, and let me see it." He propped Ticklicker against the wall and then with her help removed his jacket. The left sleeve was shredded, huge raking scratches in it. Becky tossed it aside to be dealt with later. Beneath it, Daniel's white shirt over that upper arm was bright red.

She stripped off her apron and pushed hard against the gashes while she guided him to a chair. "Jemima." She looked around. Jemima was still frozen like a statue at the ladder, her eyes wide. "Mima, get me a sheet or something. Cloth, lots of it."

Jemima snapped out of her shock and hurried off on the errand. Becky's apron was soaking through as she watched. She pressed a little harder, and Dan flinched. "Sorry. Was it a panther?" The scream they had heard mixed with the scratches made the guess obvious, though she still thought that had been an unearthly screech.

He nodded. "It killed Jericho earlier; that's what delayed me at the fort. That and a father and daughter showing up. Then it jumped me just as I got to the cabin, but it ran away, guess it heard your steps going across toward the door." He studied his arm himself. "I'm all right, Becky. He didn't really rip me up, nothing like Jericho."

She wondered briefly how bad Jericho had looked if this was minor, but her attention was still fully on her husband. "Mima?"

"Here, Ma." Jemima came up alongside her holding two folded sheets, and Becky removed the saturated apron and tossed it aside. The bleeding did seem a little slower; she was making progress. She took the opportunity to rip his shirt sleeve off, inspecting his upper arm directly. The scratches were long, deep, and gaping. The panther had landed with full weight on his upper arm, had probably jumped down from a tree. She wrapped the first sheet tightly, several layers, and continued clamping down on his arm, holding firm pressure.

Daniel smiled at his daughter. "I'm okay, Mima. I promise. Just a few little scratches." Jemima definitely was getting older, Becky thought; her expression on that reply probably mirrored Becky's own. "Is Israel asleep?"

"Yes, and let's try not to wake him." Having Jemima see this scene was bad enough. It would probably give Israel nightmares.

"Nobody go out at night," Daniel said. "Not for water, not for anything. This cat is a man killer. I'll track him down and kill him, but in the meantime, you all be careful."

"You won't be hunting him for a day or two," Becky insisted. He had lost enough blood that he was going to be weak. She let up pressure and tentatively unwrapped his arm. It was only seeping now. She rewrapped it. "Mima, get me my sewing kit, please. And some water." Those scratches were too deep to hold together well on their own, and she knew he'd be using it too much. She didn't want to risk having the bleeding start up again.

Jemima brought water in a bowl as well as the medical supplies, and Becky unwrapped the sheet again and carefully washed and treated the gashes. Jemima threaded a needle for her mother, and Daniel sat stoically, only biting his lip a time or two as she stitched up his arm. Satisfied that the bleeding was fully stopped, Becky then tore the second sheet up into strips and neatly bandaged his arm.

"Now," she said, "let's have some tea." Her hands had been steady this whole time, but they were starting to tremble just a little bit now. Dan pulled her down into the seat next to him and gave her a hug.

"I'm all right, Becky."

"Don't move that arm too much." Jemima returned with tea and with three cups, and they sat around the table drinking it. Daniel still looked a little pale, Becky thought, but the bandages on his arm remained reassuringly white.

Once the tea was finished, she stood and picked up the bloody apron and the first sheet, throwing them into the fire. She next studied his jacket.

"Better to just put a whole new sleeve on," Jemima suggested. "You'll never sew up that, and it would still be stained."

"At least the cat was considerate enough to stay on one sleeve to dig in," Daniel cracked. "Makes less work for you womenfolk." Becky glared at him, arms crossed. "I'm okay, Becky. It's all right. But still, don't go outside at dark for the moment, any of you."

"We won't, Pa," Jemima reassured him.

In spite of his front, he did seem to feel a bit wobbly, and he didn't put up too much protest to going to bed when Becky ordered him to. Coming back from the bedroom through the hanging sheets, she found Jemima carefully cutting away the tattered, bloody sleeve of his jacket, then throwing it into the fire.

"Thank you, Mima," Becky said softly. "You were a lot of help fetching things so I wouldn't have to let go."

Jemima nodded, then suddenly seized her mother in a hug. Becky held her, feeling her daughter trembling slightly, just as she herself was. They held each other for a long minute, and then Becky straightened up. "Time we were all in bed. I'll deal with the jacket in the morning first thing early."

(DB)

She was up early but tried to stay quiet and let Daniel sleep in as much as he ever could while she worked on his jacket. Jemima woke up early also and crept first thing through the sheets to look at her father.

"He'll be all right," Becky said as her daughter came back out of their bedroom. "It'll take a few days, but it will heal."

"I know," Jemima said, her head bravely up. "I'll start breakfast while you're sewing."

"Thank you, Mima."

Israel woke up halfway through meal preparation, and that was the end of quietness in the cabin. Becky was still trying to hush him, with him asking why and then protesting that nobody had woken him up last night for all the excitement, when Dan appeared from the bedroom.

"Good morning," he said brightly.

"Pa. She said you got hurt." Israel ran to give him a hug, and Dan picked him clear up with his good arm.

"Just scratched up a mite. I'm fine, Israel." Israel, reassured, reached over to the bandaged arm, feeling along it, and Daniel didn't flinch but held himself too still in trying not to.

"Leave it alone, Israel," Becky admonished. "You'll hurt him." She set the jacket aside, almost finished, and stood. She had already felt the arm herself that morning in bed, but she went over for a second inspection and also to make certain it wasn't bleeding through the bandages again with the effort of him getting up and dressed. No sign of bleeding, and the arm wasn't hot. Still, she knew from her husband's eyes just how much it was hurting him.

Jemima came over for her own morning hug from her father, a little longer than usual, and then she said, "Israel, set the table. Breakfast is almost ready."

"You're not the boss of me," he fired back, turning away.

"Israel." Becky's tone froze him in his tracks. "Set the table and don't argue with your sister. She's been working this morning; you ought to be, too."

Israel, grumbling a little under his breath, went to fetch the plates. Daniel headed over to look out the window, gauging the day. His right hand crept to his left upper arm, and he rubbed it as he thought none of them were watching.

It continued that way through breakfast. Israel got a very edited version of events but still, with his father trying his best to appear hale and hearty, didn't realize just how badly Dan had been cut. Instead, their son stayed focused on feeling shut out last night. Jemima was quiet but watching her father, as was Becky. Any time he had a chance, his right arm crept toward that left, and he would catch himself at it and draw back.

They were just finishing breakfast when a knock came at the cabin door. It was Mingo, who looked at Daniel's bandages in surprise and concern as his friend opened the door. "What happened to your arm?" he asked.

"That cat. I need to tell you what happened last night." Dan reached for his coat in its usual spot and found the empty peg instead. Looking around, he grabbed a blanket and simply tossed it over his shoulders, going on outside.

Becky sighed. She'd better finish his jacket as soon as possible; he'd catch his death out there without it as cold as the weather had been lately. She returned to her sewing project, and Jemima started clearing the table. Israel moved over by the fire, occupied with something, but Becky was too focused on Dan's jacket at first to pay much attention. She finished sewing on the new buckskin sleeve, imagining the panther landing with raking claws on her husband last night. She shuddered.

She had just finished repairs and was joining Jemima in clearing the table when Daniel came back in. "It's still cold out there," he said, shivering. He shed the blanket. "Do you have my coat ready, Becky?"

"Yes, dear, and it took quite a lot of doing." She picked up his jacket and took it over to him. On the return trip, she got distracted by Israel's experiment with frog bones by the fire and the time required to prod him into action on his morning chores. Occupied with her son, she wasn't watching her husband for a few minutes and didn't notice his preparations until Jemima asked if they could go down to the settlement for some candy once chores were done.

Dan answered before she could. "Mima, I don't want you and Israel going anywhere. I want you to stay in the cabin. No telling where or when that cat's liable to turn up."

Jemima gave a disappointed response of, "Yes, Pa," but Becky had turned at his words. He had his freshly mended coat on and was gathering up his gear, obviously getting ready to head out for the day.

"Dan!" she protested. "You can't go traipsing all over those hills. Not today, not with that arm."

"Becky," he said, "we're not going to be safe until that animal is killed."

"But Dan. . ."

He kissed her, then firmly turned away, shoulders set stubbornly. "I'll be back for supper. I'll walk Israel to the well."

That, at least, she agreed with, but her arms were folded in exasperation as he left the cabin.

"He kept fingering that bandage every time he thought we weren't watching," Jemima said with concern. "He's hurting."

"Yes, but he's not about to admit it." Becky shook her head. "Men! Maybe I shouldn't have been so fast to mend his jacket. That might have slowed him down a little."

"No," her daughter said. "He would have just gone on without it."

Thinking about it, Becky had to admit that her daughter was right.


	2. Chapter 2

Becky sat in the cabin sewing. The children were both already in bed, and the lamp was much less full than it had been when she started waiting, but she wasn't at all sleepy. Her mind was with Dan and the others, out there after the panther.

The night was nearly as murky as last night, the moon fighting against fog and mist. She had tied the white handkerchief around his neck herself as a marker. She knew that they would all be careful, but she wished that she had the confidence in the skill and nerve of all of his companions that she had in her husband. They would need it tonight. Of course, the panther himself was a danger. One man already killed and Daniel badly cut. This cat wasn't likely just to move on. Unlike most of his kind, he was actively seeking out humans rather than trying to avoid them.

She shivered and stood to put another log on the fire, refusing to let it die down yet. Water was being kept hot for tea. He'd need warming up when he finally got in.

The door rattled. He'd insisted that she lock it when he left, leaving the fact unspoken but mutually acknowledged between them that she wouldn't go to bed herself until he was back. She was over now to open it in a flash before the echo of his knock died down.

Dan entered the cabin and pulled her into a tight hug even before he put his gun aside. When she drew back after a moment and looked at his face, Becky knew that tonight's hunt had gone horribly wrong. Beneath the tiredness and physical pain, he had _that_ expression.

"Come warm yourself by the fire," she urged him. "I've kept water hot for tea." He pulled off his jacket and moved over, holding his hands out to the flames. He still hadn't spoken. She fixed tea and poured them each a cup. She couldn't help a few glances at his left arm. He was rubbing it absentmindedly again as he looked into the fire, but at least the bandages were still white.

Becky finished pouring and handed him his cup. He took a sip, and the hot liquid seemed to thaw him a little. With a sigh, he moved over abruptly to sit down at the table, and she dropped into the chair next to him and scooted it a little closer.

Finally, he spoke. "Devon was killed tonight."

"By the panther?" She hoped none of the party had snapped off a too-hasty shot in the fog. That would be a hard burden to live with.

He nodded. "Preston wasn't 50 feet away. All of us within earshot. It was that fast."

He had heard it, then. Every snarl of the cat, every scream of the doomed man. She scooted closer still and put a hand on his uninjured arm. "Did anyone get a good shot at the cat?"

"No." He sighed again. "I'm the one who set up this hunting party tonight. I led them out there."

"Dan, it wasn't your fault."

"Cincinnatus said he wouldn't have wanted to live ripped up that bad anyway." He took another gulp of tea. "He was right."

She thought again of last night, the panther jumping Daniel. For the first time, she agreed with his remark then that he had come off lightly.

"All of these people came out here because I told them about the land," he went on softly. "I brought them here."

She tightened up her grip. He so rarely got discouraged, and when he did, there wasn't anyone except her that he could show it in front of. Too many people at the settlement looked up to him as a source of strength. It was a hard burden at times. "Dan, you did tell them about the land, and you were honest. You've never tried to hide the dangers of this life from any of us. Not from them, not even from me. It can be a wild country. They know that. Devon knew that."

"And I brought you and Mima and Israel out to it. Not just them. We could be living safe and sound in a city somewhere."

She leaned against his shoulder. "You'd go crazy in a month flat in a city. And I doubt I'd be too far behind you. Besides, look at the court records in Salem. Cities aren't totally safe either." She slid her arm around his body and pulled him against her. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, Daniel. I love this country. Yes, it's wild, but it's beautiful. They know that. Anyone who wants to leave now that they've seen all the sides of it can. Some have. The ones who have stayed did it with their eyes wide open. That's their choice now, not yours. And especially tonight, on that hunting trip, there wasn't a single man with you who didn't know it was dangerous before you started. They all accepted that risk."

He tilted his head, leaning it against hers. "If you ever want to head back yourself, Becky, we could. You don't have to stay here."

"Yes, I do. Because I want to, and because I believe in you and what you're building here. And you are going to get that cat. I'm sure of it, Dan." He gave her a squeeze himself, finally starting to listen to her more than his strain and worry. "Now finish your tea, and we'll go to bed. You need to get some rest."

He pulled away enough to face her and give her a kiss, and then he picked up his cup obediently.

DBDBDB

Becky lowered her rifle, the echoes of the shot still ringing. She looked around the clearing, hoping the men weren't hunting too far away. Dan had thought the cat was close tonight. He would hear the signal shot and would come back home; she was certain of it.

A minute later, the cabin door opened behind her, and both children spilled out. "What's wrong?" Jemima demanded.

"Did you get him, Ma?" Israel asked hopefully.

"I wasn't firing at the cat. That was just a signal shot to tell your Pa that something's gone wrong."

"What's wrong?" Jemima repeated.

"Marie managed to slip out of the cabin when I wasn't looking. I'm just worried about her wandering around the woods at night. Your father will find her; don't worry. I'm sorry I woke you. Get back to bed, both of you. It's too cold for you to be out here in your nightclothes."

Israel tossed his blond locks in frustration. "Criminently! Nobody ever lets me know anything."

Jemima was watching her mother, but after a moment, she turned away. "Come on, Israel. Ma's right. It's too cold out here."

Her son was grumbling a little, but he let his sister guide him back inside. Becky stood in the clearing, waiting. Dan would be coming back at full speed, no doubt outrunning his companions on his long legs, worried about her. He shouldn't be much longer.

The spine-chilling roar of the panther filled the night, and Becky shivered and took a tighter grip on her rifle, then reloaded it carefully. Yes, he was close. That sounded like it was only a hill or two over from their place through the woods. In the next moment, the sharp sound of a rifle split the air. Was that Dan? It was followed by a brief shout - definitely Dan there, but she was too far away to hear his words clearly. The sounds of the cat and the gun had carried farther; human voices were more muffled by the trees.

What happened next sounded like all the panthers of hell had been let loose. Snarling, spitting, apparently a rolling full-on cat fight. The pitched battle continued for several seconds, but there was no accompanying scream, no sounds of human pain. She'd heard one of the men at the funeral talking about how Devon had screamed in utter agony when he had been attacked, and clearly not a man there had blamed him. But now, the cat alone was making noise. Whatever he fought against was silent.

The battle seemed to go on forever, impossibly long. No other shots came. What was happening out there? Finally, the furious snarl stilled. The woods were utterly silent at first, as if in shock themselves.

A few seconds later, another human voice finally was heard, a woman wailing in complete hysterics. Not in pain but in shocked horror at the scene in front of her.

That did it. With her rifle gripped tightly, Becky ran toward the apparent site of the battle as quickly as she could in her skirts. The uncontrolled crying had died down after a few minutes. Slowly, the regular night sounds of the woods and the nocturnal animals began to creep back in.

Running along through the fog, dodging trees and branches, Becky saw the Bouviers first, father and daughter. Marie looked no longer hysterical but near collapse, leaning heavily against her father. He was supporting her, talking to her soothingly. Becky paused as she met them and scanned Marie quickly for wounds. The moonlight wasn't as good as a lamp, but she saw no blood. "Are you all right?" she asked urgently.

Marie didn't answer, silent tears still streaming down her face. Her father did. "She's fine," he assured Becky. "Your husband . . ."

Becky's eyes picked out Dan and Mingo at that moment, coming on through the woods themselves, several feet behind the Bouviers. She took one look at his slow approach and ran. She didn't need moonlight to read that body language.

"Dan!" Mingo, who had been sticking quite close to him, moved away a few feet, and she pulled her husband on into a little clearing, giving herself the best look she could. He had scratches on his left cheek, scratches on one hand, scratches in several other places she spotted. Not bleeding badly anywhere, but he had many little wounds, and the bad cuts on his left arm had apparently been pulled, hopefully not fully reopened. A spot had seeped through the new sleeve on his jacket, but it wasn't growing quickly, at least.

"I'm fine, Becky," he assured her predictably. "And it's all over now."

"Yes, yes, it's all over now," Bouvier repeated, as much to Marie as to Becky. "Everything is all over now, and the devil cat will never bother us again. Mr. Boone, I will never forget what you did for Marie tonight." He reached out to touch Daniel on an arm but carefully. "Thank you, thank you. We will go on to bed now, but thank you."

"What did he do?" Becky asked. She was getting an idea from the looks of him and the number of wounds, but surely not even Dan would do something like . . .

"He jumped on the cat," Bouvier said. "Jumped right on top of him and fought him. We couldn't shoot when we caught up; too much chance of hitting your husband. But he killed him. With his hands and his knife. He did it for Marie."

Becky stared at him. "You jumped on him?"

"Yes, yes. Good night, Mr. Boone, Mrs. Boone, and again, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." Bouvier started back toward the settlement, still supporting his daughter, who still seemed in shock.

"I did try shooting him first, but he shifted just then, and I missed," Dan explained.

"You jumped on him?" she repeated.

Mingo looked from Becky to Daniel. "I think I'll be leaving myself now. Good night, Daniel, Rebecca." Neither of them even looked at him, and he melted away into the fog.

"I'm all right, Becky," Dan said.

Becky fought down her Irish temper. She loved him more than anything, but he was absolutely maddening at times. "The other men still had their guns loaded," she countered.

"They were a little bit behind me, and the panther was already eyeing Marie. Besides, it was only fair to do it that way."

"What did you say?" He had lost her with that line.

He looked down at her with that smile that made him look like a little boy, all six and a half feet of him. "He jumped on me, after all. I was just evening the score between us. Fair's fair."

Becky gave a furious sputter, not even words but carrying clear meaning. She turned her back and stalked off in the direction of their cabin, but after only a few steps, she paused, letting him catch up, and they walked together back to their home in exasperated, understanding silence.


End file.
